Sisters Jane Sasaki and Tomiko Takeda stand on the beach near where their parents grew up.

Week 2
October 31, 2001 - Japan
"Family"

Dear Thor:

There have been a number of firsts for me on this trip. This is my first time in Japan. I shaved with a razor blade for the first time in nearly fifteen years. (Okay, so that¹s not really a "first," but I¹m going to count it anyway.) I rode my first bullet train, ate my first piece of raw squid, and enjoyed my first soaking in a public bath.

All of these "firsts" have been wonderful experiences. However yesterday, I had a "first" that really touched me deeply ­ I found my roots.

As a child, I knew my grandparents, but their origins were a mystery to me until now. Yesterday, I learned they grew up in tiny ocean villages in the north central part of Japan. I had heard about these villages in stories, but until I saw them, I thought they were several miles apart. I discovered they are literally just across the road from each other. (With a strong backwind, I could probably throw a rock from one village to the other.)

In 1896, my grandfather Matajiro was born and grew up with his sister in Matsubara ­ 50 meters from the ocean. Five years later, my grandmother En was born and grew up with her sisters in the village of Kugushi across the road. Both Matajiro and En lived as most rural kids did in pre-industrialized Japan. They worked the crops, fished for food, and went to school to learn how to read and write.

Yesterday was a "first" for me because I could literally "see" my grandparents as they were a century ago ­ scampering with their friends down the dirt road to the elementary school they both attended. The original building was an old wooden shack that needed to be torn down, so a new school now sits on the same site. But it¹s still a bustle of activity with kids running around the in school yard, so it¹s not hard to imagine what it looked like back then.

Since my grandfather was five years older, he and his future wife attended the school at different times. In fact, I learned that he never knew my grandmother or her family while growing up. He lived nearly a quarter century without realizing that his future life-partner was just a stone¹s throw away.

The only reason they ever met was through an arranged marriage. My grandfather had immigrated to the US in 1914 to work with his father on a farm in Colorado. In fact they had found a bride, but that got nixed after the marriage to my grandmother was arranged back in the villages.

My grandmother once told the story of how she waited on the docks to meet her future husband. She saw all these handsome Japanese men get off the ship and kept asking herself "Is that man my future husband? Or is that man?" My grandfather was one of the last men to get off the ship, and my grandmother said she broke down crying after seeing how short and dark he was.

It¹s not exactly the "fairy tale" beginning that most love stories start with, but it¹s the story that started mine. After marriage, my grandparents later settled in Platteville, Colorado and started raising crops for a living. They were blessed with 10 sons and two daughters ­ my mother being the youngest girl and child number 10.

Over the decades, my family has remained remarkably close. Perhaps it¹s because my grandparents raised us with the strong rural values they learned while growing up in their tiny villages. Or perhaps it¹s something more. Love. Luck. Fate. Whatever the case, we have shelves upon shelves of photo albums filled with shared memorable moments like weddings, birthdays and celebrations.

Now our photo albums will be filled with something different, but just as important. They will be filled with images from our visit to my grandparent¹s birthplace in Matsubara and KugushiŠour home away from home in Japan.

Speaking of home, my mother and uncles and aunts have just left for Osaka¹s Narita Airport to return to the U-S. The farewell was tearful, so I¹m a little sad right now. Standing in my hotel room, I can hear the traffic and frantic bustle of Osaka¹s streets, but there¹s a stillness and a quiet that¹s new. I no longer hear the sounds of family that have been my constant companion for the past two weeks.

Since arriving in Japan, my family was my security blanket. We all watched out for each other, and acted as tour guides, navigators, and translators. We shared experiences, got drunk together, and made each other laugh. (Actually to be perfectly honest, I got drunk on one beer, so they had to help me back to the hotel, and THAT made them laugh. I knowŠI knowŠI¹m a lightweight!)

None-the-less, it¹s time for me to explore on my own.

Tonight I fly to Bangkok and continue my search for you in Thailand. I¹m really curious to see how that part of the world can compare with my experiences in Japan. I¹ll write you again next week.

Until then, please be well, be present. And Namaste!

Scotty